


'cause I know that it's delicate

by ameliajessica



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 10:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15117524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliajessica/pseuds/ameliajessica
Summary: "Leia’s hands smooth over his chest, over his shirt, and Han worries about whether she can feel his heart pounding at the tip of her fingers. Giving all his cards away, right away, would be unwise (though he’s sure if he asked she would rob him of any subtlety credit). “Did you… do this? With her?” Leia asks, surprisingly timid in her curiosity. That she can be coy, but only with him, is added to the long list of things Han is endlessly, helplessly, charmed by.“Yes,” Han says, quiet and careful, because there are parts of Leia he doesn’t know, because he knows she doesn’t let anyone see them, and he’d like to. Each move he makes carries the great consciousness that it might be the one that scares her off. “She was actually my… the first person, that I did it with.”or, a quiet moment where two idiots talk about their feelings. An analysis of how the events of Solo: A Star Wars Story, and his relationship with Qi'ra, affects Han's feelings for Leia.





	'cause I know that it's delicate

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written star wars fanfic and it's terrifying, will no longer be writing for characters for which there are billions of fans and decades of canon I could accidentally go against, BUT I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT QI'RA AND HAN AND HOW ///LEIA/// IS THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE, SHUT UP RON HOWARD YOU DON'T KNOW SH*T ABOUT LOVE
> 
> ahem enjoy

  


“I’ve never done this before,” Leia blurts out suddenly, detaching her mouth from his.

 

Han blinks. It’s a little surprising, but she is a princess. It’s entirely possible that a diplomatic lifestyle doesn’t allow for sneak-a-way romps. There’s probably… etiquette classes, or some kriff. She must have perfected that disapproving look somewhere - but again entirely possible Leia emerged from the womb, vaguely scathing that no-one lived up to her complete competennce.

 

“Well, you know, we don’t… have to.” He lifts his hands from her, slow and deliberate, moving back on his knees and begging, _begging_ his crotch to not be too noticeably excited from what they were just doing. It would kind of detract from his point a little.

 

Leia sits up a little and rolls her eyes, not exactly helping the situation. “I know we don’t _have_ to, Han. Re-populating the galaxy isn’t exactly top priority of the moment.”

 

“I _mean_ that if you don’t want to, I don’t want to.” Han shifts, rolling his shoulders back and trying to not give too much of his complicated feelings, the sad stirring in his stomach away. “And I’d get it, you know, if you didn’t want to. With me. Your first--”

 

“I’ve done… stuff!” Leia snaps, defensive. “Just not… _this_ this. And not with a guy.”

 

“Oh,” Han says. Then, hearing the rest: “ _Oh?”_

 

“No, we’re not having that conversation.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

“Have you…” she says, suddenly, after a few beats of quiet. “...before?”

 

“With guys?” Han says. “Eh, more or less.”

 

Leia looks bewildered and annoyed simultaneously. It’s a look she wears a lot around him, more so than anyone else. He’s a little possessive of it if he’s honest. “Wh--no, not a conversation we’re having either. _No_ , what I meant was whether there was… ever a someone. For you.”

 

Han’s expression becomes wistful, tinged with sadness without him meaning to. “Yeah. Once. Before. It was, uh… a long time ago. Back on Corellian. We grew up together. We got split up and then put back together but… she chose a different path. And then I never heard from her again.”

 

Leia’s hands smooth over his chest, over his shirt, and Han worries about whether she can feel his heart pounding at the tip of her fingers. Giving all his cards away, right away, would be unwise (though he’s sure if he asked she would rob him of any subtlety credit). “Did you… do this? With her?” Leia asks, surprisingly timid in her curiosity. That she can be coy, but only with him, is added to the long list of things Han is endlessly, helplessly, charmed by.

 

“Yes,” Han says, quiet and careful, because there are parts of Leia he doesn’t know, because he knows she doesn’t let anyone see them, and he’d like to. Each move he makes carries the great consciousness that it might be the one that scares her off. “She was actually my… _the_ first person, that I did it with.”

 

“And then you slowly but surely made your way through the rest of the galaxy?” she teases, tapping at his cheek.

 

 _Not at all_ , Han doesn’t say. He doesn’t say that he maybe slept with, by the most liberal of estimates, a handful of women, had a sloppy makeout with Lando one time when Chewie was sick and Han was wasted and wrecked with worry and didn’t know who else to call, but it just salted a wound. And he eventually stopped being able to ignore the burn, or pretend that it was bearable. He doesn’t tell her that from the moment she yelled at him while he was in the middle of rescuing her that it was like his world was finally spinning on an axis again. Going somewhere that made sense.

 

“Something like that,” he says with a small smile, gazing down at her. She wriggles in the circle of his arms, closer. Chest to chest. His head blanks with it, and his mouth starts talking before he can think through what he’s saying.

 

“You,” he breathes. “This is different. You’re different.”

 

The air is heavy with the confession. Han just watches her take it in, waiting for a sign of being shut outside her walls again, because there’s an Empire, and a Rebellion and he’s a, you know, and she’s _royalty_ and there’s absolutely, no way that this can go anywhere, or work out, no matter how big and brown her eyes are or that she smells like burnt Alderaan sugar.

 

“You’re... actually very sweet, aren’t you?” Leia says, eyes roaming over his face. She sounds delighted by the discovery.

 

“Pretty much,” he admits, speaking a little shallowly from the expression she’s sporting - amused and determined and _wanting._ Him. Wanting him. Feeling brave, he puts his hands on her again, running up her sides. Leia’s eyelids flutter with pleasure, don’t quite shut, like she wants to keep looking at him, and it’s so contradictory and so _her_.

 

He couldn’t let her go even if he wanted to. And it won’t matter what he wants - because of the Empire, and the Rebellion, and because he’s a army-recruit-gone-delivery-boy-gone-rogue and she’s a _leader_ \- but. Qi’ra didn’t want him enough. The more he had thought about it after she was gone, that had always been the case. Never enough. Maybe for either of them. But Leia… if Leia keeps wanting him, he won’t go anywhere.

 

Leia grows serious, a worried furrow tucked in her brow. “Han,” she says, talking around an exhale, “you know that I-- you know.”

 

“Yeah,” says Han, thumb brushed across her cheek before he leans in. “I know.”


End file.
